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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22438771">Alone and Forgotten</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokiitama/pseuds/Lokiitama'>Lokiitama</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>One Shot Prompts [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Friendly Prompt Challenge, Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Isolation, Kidnapping, Not Beta Read, Other characters appear but briefly, Whump, hostage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 11:01:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,582</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22438771</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokiitama/pseuds/Lokiitama</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Since he got stuck there, all Connor had for distraction was a Sumo-shaped imperfection in the wall, and a count of how many days he had gone missing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>One Shot Prompts [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1601422</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>193</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Prompt Challenge</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Alone and Forgotten</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The cold barrel of the gun pressed against his red LED, pushing his head lightly on the side. He glared back at the masked man who was facing the camera. He was unable to fight back, he was unable to stand, he was unable to speak.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t do anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The camera’s green light kept flashing over him, as his captor flaunted the prowess to have captured him and laid out his demands against his eventual release. The barrel of the gun was occasionally shoved against his temple for shows and good measure, but he knew that killing him now would be worthless for gain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His GPS was offline, and so were his communications. When he reactivated, his captor smiled widely, dirty fingers retracting from the activation switch in his neck port. His preconstruction program only proposed plans of action that all had a 100% failure rate. His limbs were tied together to the chair he was on with thick zip ties.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor didn’t know how to get out of this.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>SELF-REPAIR PROGRAM: RUNNING (1/2)</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>TIME REMAINING FOR COMPLETION: UNKNOWN</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>BATTERY LEVEL: 85%</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man hadn’t returned after he was done with his video. It had been 8 days 16 hours 23 minutes and </span>
  <em>
    <span>44 seconds.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>45 seconds.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>46 seconds.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>47 seconds.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another drop of water fell from the leaky ceiling, landing with a splat on the concrete. Connor knew it was somewhere behind him, but he couldn’t see where exactly. He was unable to move his body, still tied to the chair. He could barely turn his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room was entirely devoid of anything. There was not a single window, as he didn’t see the sunlight pass by. He was left with the room’s light, which definitely was on the later end of its life. For 8 days, 16 hours, 23 minutes and 59 seconds, he had been staring at the same grey wall. He had had the time to identify every small imperfection in it. They were 12. One looked like Sumo.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He remembered Hank had said both himself and Sumo would need some exercises. He was supposed to go for a jog to encourage Hank on the new habit he wanted to form. That was due for two days after he got taken. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wondered if Hank did go running.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wondered if Hank was looking for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>PLEASE GO INTO STASIS FOR THE SELF-REPAIR PROGRAM TO RUN AT ITS FULL CAPACITY</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor closed his eyes, and tried to go into stasis for the 563rd time since he was left alone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>STASIS LAUNCH - INTERRUPTED</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opened his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another drop fell from the leaky ceiling.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>SELF-REPAIR PROGRAM: RUNNING (1/2)</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>TIME REMAINING FOR COMPLETION: UNKNOWN</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>BATTERY LEVEL: 84%</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor was almost reaching the 10 days mark - 9 days, 23 hours, 56 minutes and 31 seconds - when the door creaked loudly. He would have refused to say how much hope got crushed when it was the man that entered, grumbling about a fucking android.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fucking android probably was Connor himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man got around his chair, his mask was still in place. He couldn’t analyse his face. He couldn’t try to bite him either to get a sample as he was gagged. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He head snapped under a punch, eyes barely catching a reflection of the puddle behind him before he glared right back at the aggressor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of the man’s dirty hand found its way in his hair and pulled. He brought his face closer to Connor’s and spewed some insults and threats. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor was more worried about the micro cables and their possibility to snap with the tension from his hair being pulled. He kept glaring at the man.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hated it was the only thing he could do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man probably did as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hair was quickly released, and the man kicked violently his regulator. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor’s whole body whirred under the heel, vision snuffed out of his eyes. He heard and felt his shirt being ripped open, and when his HUD was restored, it displayed a calm blue countdown to deactivation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some thirium was trickling down the open gap in his torso, and the man was tossing his pump up and down as if it had been a coin. The man taunted him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the pump was put back in place, he only had 15 seconds remaining. Connor blinked heavily, most of his performances coming back up to him at once.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He heard a snicker.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The countdown appeared once again.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>SELF-REPAIR PROGRAM: RUNNING (1/2)</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>TIME REMAINING FOR COMPLETION: UNKNOWN</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><em><span>BATTERY LEVELS:</span></em> <em><span>71%</span></em></p>
<p>
  <span>The blue that had tainted his white shirt had long evaporated. All that remained of that altercation was his dishevelled hair, ripped shirt, and flickering synthetic skin around his thirium pump.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It gave him something new to look at. The way the pale skin would merge into white like waves was almost soothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor was stuck on that chair, GPS and Communications off for 15 days, 2 hours, 3 minutes and 1 second.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>2 days, 14h, 41 minutes and 33 seconds ago, there had been loud noises in the vicinity, somewhere above him. He heard many footsteps, voices he couldn’t recognize, a gunshot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then silence.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>SELF-REPAIR PROGRAM: RUNNING (1/2)</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>TIME REMAINING FOR COMPLETION: UNKNOWN</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><em><span>BATTERY LEVELS:</span></em> <em><span>49%</span></em></p>
<p>
  <span>20 days, 3 hours, 5 minutes and 22 seconds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lack of noise was deafening, and before being taken there, he had found comfort in the way Hank would awfully sing along to some of the songs in his car, or how Markus would start lightly singing something while he was painting or relaxing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew North, Simon and Josh regularly went to the karaoke all together. He had never taken part in this activity, but he assumed it was enjoyable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor had never sung before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He found himself humming around the gag in his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It echoed in the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor had decided he hated his singing voice. It sounded broken. Yet, he couldn’t stop humming. It was filling the silence. It was helping. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hated it.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>SELF-REPAIR PROGRAM: RUNNING (1/2)</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>TIME REMAINING FOR COMPLETION: UNKNOWN</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><em><span>BATTERY LEVELS:</span></em> <em><span>48%</span></em></p>
<p>
  <span>20 days, 21 hours, 57 minutes and 08 seconds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stopped humming.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>SELF-REPAIR PROGRAM: RUNNING (1/2)</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>TIME REMAINING FOR COMPLETION: UNKNOWN</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><em><span>BATTERY LEVELS:</span></em> <em><span>44%</span></em></p>
<p>
  <span>22 days, 16 hours, 14 minutes and 43 seconds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Someone was watching him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could feel it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The person was behind him, where he couldn’t look behind himself. Sometimes, his hearing processor was glitching out, giving small, high-pitched feedback. It usually happened when footsteps started walking over him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The light was flickering.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had been so many days. Connor was sure that Hank would have come for him much sooner. He didn’t understand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe he misinterpreted some of the human signs of friendship to their relation. Surely, Hank would have been there already otherwise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He heard the steps and felt the gaze again. He had to know who it was. He had to see.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He jerked against his restraints, the chair barely moving, as he could just move his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>WARNING: POTENTIAL DAMAGE TO COMPONENTS, CEASE MOVEMENT NOW</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>CALL CYBERLIFE FOR ASSISTANCE</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The gaze on his back was gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Surely, Hank would come soon.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>WARNING: POTENTIAL DAMAGE TO COMPONENTS, CEASE MOVEMENT NOW</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>SELF-REPAIR PROGRAM: RUNNING (1/2)</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>TIME REMAINING FOR COMPLETION: UNKNOWN</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><em><span>BATTERY LEVELS:</span></em> <em><span>31%</span></em></p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>CALL CYBERLIFE FOR ASSISTANCE</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>29 days, 17 hours, 59 minutes and 01 seconds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank wouldn’t come.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He really was just a fucking android.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>WARNING: POTENTIAL DAMAGE TO COMPONENTS, CEASE MOVEMENT NOW</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>SELF-REPAIR PROGRAM: RUNNING (1/2)</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>TIME REMAINING FOR COMPLETION: UNKNOWN</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><em><span>BATTERY LEVELS:</span></em> <em><span>28%</span></em></p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>CALL CYBERLIFE FOR ASSISTANCE</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>31 days, 19 hours, 02 minutes and 14 seconds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt the screwdriver stab through his hand, embedding itself in the table behind him. The countdown started. As soon as he heard his pump clink away on the ground behind the android.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor gasped, feeling the hollow circle in his chest. The countdown kept reaching down and he couldn’t move. He couldn’t move.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He couldn’t move.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>WARNING: POTENTIAL DAMAGE TO COMPONENTS, CEASE MOVEMENT NOW</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could hear someone screaming, he could! He had to crawl out of there. He had to put his thirium pump back into place, he had to pursue the deviant! </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Someone was screaming!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>WARNING: POTENTIAL DAMAGE TO COMPONENTS, CEASE MOVEMENT NOW</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was thrashing around. Whipping his head around, trying to get away. The zip ties kept him in place. He wanted away. He didn’t want to be here. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t want to</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>WARNING: POTENTIAL DAMAGE TO COMPONENTS, CEASE MOVEMENT NOW</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt an electrical current run through his left arm. Snapping his senses back to where he was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The screaming got louder, more intense. Yet, it was muffled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Connor’s eyes landed back on the Sumo-shaped imperfection on the wall, he realized the muffled screams were his. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was not pursuing deviants. He didn’t have a screwdriver pinning him to a counter. He didn’t have his thirium pump dislodged from its place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was in the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Forgotten.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>WARNING: POTENTIAL DAMAGE TO COMPONENTS, CEASE MOVEMENT NOW</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>SELF-REPAIR PROGRAM: RUNNING (1/2)</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>TIME REMAINING FOR COMPLETION: UNKNOWN</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><em><span>BATTERY LEVELS:</span></em> <em><span>21%</span></em></p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>CALL CYBERLIFE FOR ASSISTANCE</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>39 days, 3 hours, 37 minutes and 23 seconds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His thirium pump started whirring. Usually, after he had an episode where reality and the past would start blurring together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t long after the first one that his thirium pump started glitching.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes, it would stop working altogether. The countdown would appear in his HUD, that was already filled by messages of error and warnings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The days that had passed were taunting him. The gaze and footsteps never stopped, yet never showed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His only solace was that, sometimes, when reality got blurry, it was as if he was being pulled by an overly excited Sumo, as he walked him around. But it happened rarely. The few times it did were the times Connor had struggled the less against the zip ties.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Did they miss him?</span>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Was he really going to die here?</span>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>WARNING: POTENTIAL DAMAGE TO COMPONENTS, CEASE MOVEMENT NOW</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>SELF-REPAIR PROGRAM: RUNNING (2/2)</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>GPS STATUS...OK</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>TIME REMAINING FOR COMPLETION: UNKNOWN</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><em><span>BATTERY LEVELS:</span></em> <em><span>14%</span></em></p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>CALL CYBERLIFE FOR ASSISTANCE</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>45 days, 17 hours, 59 minutes and 54 seconds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blue that lit up in his HUD was almost strange to see, amongst the sea of red.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His GPS was fixed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor blinked owlishly, trying to make sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>somehow</span>
  </em>
  <span> that it was reality, and not another one of his episodes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The notification didn’t disappear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anticipation ran through his components. His </span>
  <em>
    <span>GPS was fixed.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He launched it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was on the outskirts of Detroit, in a rather poor and deserted neighbourhood. It was a little house. Barely standing together. Or so his programming told him. He couldn’t be sure of anything anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>COMMUNICATIONS STATUS… REPAIRING</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>TIME REMAINING FOR COMPLETION: UNKNOWN</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t tell anyone where he was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tried telling himself. He repeated the address. Over and over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had to tell someone. Someone would be able to come help, right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But if they were really able to, they would have come much sooner. He wouldn’t have been stuck in this room, whose light flickered off a few days ago and never flickered back on, if they could help.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They probably thought he was dead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He would probably die if he stayed there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t move.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Connor was going to die, no matter what was going to happen, he would die </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He struggled. The notifications popped back in his HUD, even more than there had been before. He didn’t care. He would do it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>WARNING: POTENTIAL DAMAGE TO COMPONENTS, CEASE MOVEMENT NOW</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Electrical shocks were making their way through his left arm. If only he could free one of them. He’d be able to move. He’d be able to get off that chair. He’d be able to get the gag off his mouth. He’d be able to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>free</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He struggled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His screams started again as the electricity made him feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>pain</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He could hear cracks. Notifications were blinding him. He dismissed them every time. He only kept one. The only spark of hope he had been able to see in 45 days, 18 hours, 10 minutes and 12 seconds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>GPS STATUS...OK</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He heard and felt a garbled crack as one last big shock of electricity ran up to his thirium pump, that was whirring and stuttering more than ever. His right arm tugged forward, and for the first time since </span>
  <em>
    <span>too long,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Connor’s torso moved forward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the dim light procured by his red LED and thirium regulator, he saw his hand. The synthetic skin was coming on and off, just like it had around his regulator.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And his left forearm was still tied to it, zip ties trying each of the fingers together, as well as his wrists.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>THIRIUM LEVELS: vv 84%</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The gaze was back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He snapped his head behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had to get out of there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ripped the gag away from his mouth and tried standing up. Connor immediately tumbled down, both legs still tied around the chair. The chairback slammed into his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His HUD disappeared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The notification was gone. Everything was gone. His vision was too quiet. It was too empty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No. It couldn’t go off!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ran his GPS. It still told him the same location. The same coordinates. He was still there. He was still present. He was still </span>
  <em>
    <span>somewhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He wouldn’t die here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor started crawling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew nothing was in front of him. He had seen that exact same wall for 45 days, 18 hours, 32 minutes and 58 seconds. Painfully, he made his way toward the direction he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> the door was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crawling on one arm, legs bound to a chair and driven by despair, Connor eventually made his way to the door. Using the wall, he managed to reach for the handle, and throw his weight on it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door creaked open, revealing a flight of stairs. Connor didn’t know how high they were. Only the first few ones were illuminated by his LED. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wouldn’t die here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He started crawling his way up the stairs. No light was coming out from the top of it. But steadily, the light from his LED showed him a completely blank wall on top of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor pushed against it, and it barely moved.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It couldn’t be closed!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pushed harder. He punched the door. He screamed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tried standing some more, almost getting dragged down by his own weight over the chair and falling back down the stairs, and slammed himself against the surface.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He heard a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thump</span>
  </em>
  <span> before the wall opened and Connor fell forward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stumbled into a room illuminated by the outside’s light, filtering through the windows. He could detect the smell of putrid, definitely advanced decomposition of a body. He had a hard time adjusting to the light. He couldn’t quite make the calibration.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He kept dragging himself inside the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor inhaled a bunch of dust, and his thirium pump stuttered. His ventilation system starting working faster. Louder. He looked toward the door, that he had just opened. Next to it was the dead body of the man. Even though he could see blurry at best, he could distinguish a dried bullet hole right in the middle of his forehead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So it was his body that had been blocking the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor kept crawling. Surely, there would be something to get rid of the zip ties around his legs around here. Somewhere. It had to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes didn’t calibrate back as he searched. It took a while, but he knew that he found what he was looking for when his hand got stabbed by a knife. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took Connor everything not to be thrown back into an episode. He couldn’t afford it. Not now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took the knife in his hand, smearing some blue blood across the wooden handle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He crashed to the ground, he had to crawl to his pump.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He couldn’t see the countdown, but he could feel it. He could </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> his impending doom. He had to-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt blue blood trickle down his hand. He looked down to it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His left forearm was still attached to it. He was trembling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He brought the knife to his ankles, and tried to pass it between his ankles and the chair’s legs. It took a few tries and scratches to get there, destroying parts of his pants and making the synthetic skin pull back from half his legs, but soon enough, the chair clattered to the ground. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor could move his legs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He immediately dropped the knife, and tried to stand up. It was hard, his legs were trembling, more than he had before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He managed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blindly looked for the exit door, and was relieved when it opened without a problem. The door creaked open. More light hit his uncalibrated eyes, making the world even more blurry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Connor stood there, proudly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was free.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>??? days, ?? hours, ?? minutes and ?? seconds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was close to New Jericho. He knew it. He had been tracing his position thanks to his GPS. He was close to New Jericho. He just needed to push a little more. He was close.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had gotten late. He hadn’t seen anybody on the streets. Was he having another episode? Was he still actually in the room? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had to reach New Jericho.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>New Jericho never slept. There were always androids doing something. Activities, talking. He wanted to see them. He wanted to hear them. He wanted to hear an android curse at another one for cheating at a game.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was no one in the streets. There were no cars. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was silent, except for his pump whirring and stuttering.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes, it completely stopped, making him fall to his knees. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s when his GPS would provide him with his position. He was always closer. He could push himself. He could do it. He had to reach New Jericho.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was so close.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>close.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His pump stopped again, and Connor crashed in the middle of his step.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t get back up.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>REBOOT</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>BATTERY LEVELS: 100%</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>THIRIUM LEVELS: 100%</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>SELF-REPAIR PROGRAM: COMPLETE (2/2)</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>GPS STATUS...OK</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>COMMUNICATIONS STATUS...OK</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>SYSTEMS...OK</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>51 days, 1 hour, 23 minutes and 56 seconds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor opened his eyes to an empty, silent white room. While the place was still blurry, he received a notification about calibration, and within a minute all was clear to see.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It looked like the tech bay from New Jericho.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was wrong. Something was off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tech bay was always busy. There was always some noise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Was he… was he having an episode? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rose his hands to his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He curled up on himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He moved each of his fingers individually. Both hands were free. Both legs were free. His thirium pump was pulsing a calm blue. He didn’t feel shocks going up his arms anymore. His HUD was back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Where was he?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Was this really the tech bay?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He moved his fingers as if his coin was rolling off of them, and inhaled shakily. Two useless motions he found some comfort in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew he couldn’t be dead. He had lived through death already. It didn’t feel like that. Death was followed by Amanda, his mission, and feeling every part of him being pulled back together in a new body. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But this couldn’t be the tech bay either, right? Nor the room? He would have snapped back to reality already… right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was only one way to know.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opened his communications. The previous messages he had sent almost two months ago were still laying there. Him reminding Hank to prepare his sports gear and Sumo’s leash for the activity they had planned together. Markus asking him if he wanted to join an activity with him and the three others which he had left on read so he could reply at the end of the day and then elected to ignore it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opened the conversation with Hank. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He fingers came to rest on top of his chest, where his tie would usually be. He wasn’t in the same clothing as before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>&gt;&gt; Hank?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>1,3 seconds later, the message was seen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He heard a commotion going down the hall. He heard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He heard.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Footsteps were coming louder toward him. Would they go away just like in the room? Was he stuck there now? Did he have to struggle again?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door opened loudly, slamming against the wall. Connor stiffened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There stood Hank, Markus, North, Josh and Simon in all different states of disarray. Hank was out of breath, but he was the first one to take a step toward Connor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor kept staring.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So this was real?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was in the tech bay for real? He wasn’t in the room anymore?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A pair of big arms embraced him, and soon enough, the four other androids also joined in. The touches were real. The way he felt Hank’s chest rumbling as he told him what had happened was real. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He distantly heard Hank explain that the man never came to the meeting point and they didn’t have enough information to pinpoint where he was. Connor didn’t care anymore. He was out of there. He was with them. They were real.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was not chasing memories while being tied to a chair anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And for the first time, Connor cried.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Another One-Shot Prompt is done! The two prompts to work with this time were Isolation as main dish and Hostage as side one!</p>
<p>This is part of a small challenge we give to each other with TNKT. We're most likely gonna throw other prompts around and I can't wait to have some more time to write to my heart's content! (Both for the prompts and my multichapter fic)</p>
<p>I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it!</p>
<p>It was very enjoyable to write, I really enjoyed planning this out and let my fingers do the work without having to think terribly about it. I didn't re-read it yet, so some things may sound like nonsense or very French, for this I'm sorry!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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